


there's something tragic about you (get closer to me)

by Petr1chor



Series: take me to the barricade [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28390290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petr1chor/pseuds/Petr1chor
Summary: R has a Bad Mental Health Day and looking at Enj reminds him of his insecurities.(yes i'm projecting but shush)
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: take me to the barricade [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049165
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	there's something tragic about you (get closer to me)

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt fill!!

Grantaire lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. He had been awake for less than half an hour but he knew it was going to be a bad day. He idly considered staying in bed and skipping his morning classes.

He inhaled.

The end of the semester was approaching and he couldn’t afford to miss any classes. He remembered that the Les Amis monthly ‘open to the public’ meeting was being held after classes too.

Maybe if he skipped breakfast and his morning shower he could get some more sleep. His eyelids felt heavy and he let them fall shut.

Xxx

Grantaire reached the Musain a good hour before he was supposed to. He had walked over right after his classes ended for the day.

He looked longingly at his apartment building as he quickly passed it by. He was terribly early for the meeting, but he knew the comfortable pull of his bed would be too strong. Or maybe he would be too weak. Probably the latter.

He had been doing so much better. His grades were looking up. He was getting better at saying no to Gavroche and being a better babysitter. He did seven commissions this month.

 _And Enjolras is being nice to you,_ his brain supplied, unhelpful as ever.

He didn’t want to think about Enjolras this evening. Not the fearless leader who stood on whatever surface he could find and rallied people with a raw, terrifying charisma, awash in sunlight. He definitely did not want to think of the smiling Enjolras, wrapped in a massive scarf, bringing him a sour cherry muffin and coffee as a thank you for getting him to sleep instead of overworking himself.

He has other reasons to be at the meeting than pleasing Enolras. Other than Bahorel and Feuilly, the Amis were not particularly adept at physical altercations, and the public meetings often drew an unsavory crowd. Jehan had promised to show him the new piece they were working on. He hadn’t seen Bahorel in a week and since he was still recovering, it would be nice to see him.

And Enjolras. There was that.

The little bell that hung above the door at the Musain gave a decidedly merry jingle as he entered and Grantaire decided he would have to dismantle it.

“Hey, R,” Feuilly called cheerfully from the bar.

Grantaire tried the curve his smile onto his face.

Feuilly looked at him as he approached the bar and grimaced at the look on his face. “Bad day, huh?”

Grantaire huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah, you could say that?”

Feuilly slid a beer across the bar to him, and Grantaire did manage a smile at that.

He took a sip.

Xxx

He had switched to whiskey an hour into the evening, right about when the rest of the Amis started filling in one by one. Courfeyrac and Combeferre arriving to set up, followed by a very harried Enjolras, spilling with apologies for being late. Joly and Bossuet came in with Eponine and Musichetta, holding cartons of flyers. Marius seemed to have injured himself, if the way Cosette was holding onto him was any indication. Jehan, as they always did, arrived with a hoard of new people.

Grantaire watched them arrived with dull disinterest. Feuilly was wrapping up their shift so he could go help set up. Grantaire finished the drink and got another.

He touched his forehead to the bar and tried to breathe slower. The pressure building in his throat was getting painful. He hated this.

He had been doing so well.

But here he was. Sitting at a bar while all his friends worked for something they believed in. Even when he was doing his best, and getting better, he was still useless on most fronts.

Something about the familiar burn on whiskey unsettled him. He had been trying to cut back a little. To be more present. But nights like this were so much easier when didn’t have to remember them. Enjolras met his eye from across the room and gave him a small smile.

Grantaire felt the lump in his throat tighten into a fist.

Enjolras took center-stage and threw him another smile. Grantaire shut his eyes.

Xxx

He knew it had been a long time. He had lost count of how much he had drunk. Enjolras was still speaking. Not on stage anymore, though. He was having heated argument with some guy who had come for the meeting. His hands were flying wildly and his hair was escaping the ponytail it had been tied into.

Someone had sat down beside him, slipping the glass out of his hand.

“Maybe that’s enough for the night, R.” he said, softly.

“Joly?” he mumbled.

Joly hummed in response, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Grantaire felt himself deflate completely and he leaned into the warmth of the body beside him.

“Hey I can’t hold you up with my cane, okay?” he said, “Will you be okay till I get help?”

Grantaire nodded.

He lay his head down on the bar. It was cold against his flushed face. The floor was spinning terribly.

He felt a warm hand on his back and rejoiced silently.

He just wanted to go home. Joly would get him home. Joly would get him home even though all he had done was be a menace.

“’M sorry, Joly,” he mumbled.

“Grantaire?”

Grantaire looked up at Enjolras, who was bent a little to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, and he could hear his voice cracking.

He felt desperation clawing up his throat.

“Hey, hey, R, why are you apologizing?”

He shook his head, pressing a hand to his mouth.

Enjolras’ hand was on his elbow, sliding up to firmly grasp his arm.

“Let me take you home, yeah?” his voice was so gentle. Grantaire shrugged his hand off his arm.

“Enjolras, hey! Thank god you’re here.” Joly was back. Grantaire hung his head and exhaled in relief.

“What’s wrong?” Enjolras asked.

“Jehan has already gone and you’re the only other person who drove here. Can you help me get R home?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“No,” Grantaire’s voice was brittle.

“Huh?”

“No, I can’t come with you.”

“R?” the gentle voice was back, this time paired with a hand on his knee.

Enjolras’ thumb was sliding back and forth. His brows were furrowed in a deep V and his mouth was twisted into an unhappy curve. Grantaire felt the dam break. He choked on a heaving sob.

“You can’t-you can’t do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“This,” he knew he sounded hysterical, “You can’t do this. You can’t pretend it’s all okay. You can’t bring me sour cherry muffins and smile at me from across the room. God-god Enjolras do you even see it? You have been breaking my heart for longer than you know.”

The hand on his knee slipped off. Joly had wrapped his arm around him. Grantaire saw the tightness in Enjolras’ jaw and the way his hands were opening at closing at his sides.

 _I fucked up, I fucked up,_ he thought, desperately burying his face in Joly’s neck.

Enjolras exhaled, loud and shaky. He fished his keys out of his pocket and handed them to Joly.

“Drive him home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it?
> 
> Kudos, comment, share <3


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